


Délicatesse

by orphan_account



Series: Vero [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Drunk Sex, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:52:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7027378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re drinking your frustration, the line between anger frustration and sexual frustration is so blurry it may as well not exist. This was supposed to make things easier but you feel so, so warm and you’re fighting with yourself to stay seated at the bar as he floats around like a pretty little show pony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Délicatesse

You’re on your 7th drink and it’s amazing, if not entertaining, to see him in his element. Standing up is an effort, and you’re quite lucky your bartender is so obviously into you or else she would have kicked you off long ago with the way you’re clinging to your glass like a man stranded in the desert.

 

He’s fucking _/gorgeous/_ , and that fact is hitting your body and mind harder with each martini you slam down. You’re drinking your frustration, the line between anger frustration and sexual frustration is so blurry it may as well not exist. This was supposed to make things easier but you feel so, so warm and you’re fighting with yourself to stay seated at the bar as he floats around like a pretty little show pony. It's so, so hard. And so are you, if you’re being honest with yourself. He’s so fucking beautiful. His skirt flows freely as he naturally floats through the crowds and cliques. (It’s just a simple baby-blue circle skirt that sits high at his waist and ends at the tips of his calves, you helped him make it for the occasion) He’s got a simple white long-sleeve button-down tucked into the skirt, and to match the ensemble is a pair of white stilettos. You’d tried to tell him that wedges would be more comfortable without sacrificing the look, but if there was one thing David Strider was, It was over-the-top.

 

If you were anywhere your right mind you’d be musing over how uncomfortable his choice of shoes must be, but you’re too far gone and are too occupied trying not to drool over him to conjure a thought that’s even remotely snarky.

 

You’re kicked out of the bar area for dumping your 10th drink all over your blazer, the counter top, and the bartender herself. Eventually you decide to slink over to the food and tentatively nibble on a few things before you’d noticed he broke out of the crowd and was making his way to you.

 

There’s a slight flush across his cheeks and you’re so far caught up in how marvelous he looks. He says something along the line of ‘Let’s blow this place.’ and you’re quite certain you agreed, but only if it meant you could blow him. If you were of your right mind, you’d have decked yourself in the teeth the minute that left your mouth. Everything buzzing and soft and fuzzy at the same time and when he drags you into the limo he spends the entire ride home kissing you absolutely breathless. He's eagerly tugging you into the elevator and to your shared hotel room.

 

As soon as the door is shut he’s pouncing on you, pawing at your blazer and pulling your shirt up over your head. He helps you kick your slacks off and you stop him as he pulls at the zipper of his skirt. Talking is a fucking feat right now but you think he understood the slur that poured from your lips. He pushes you back, gently, onto your bed and straddles your lap. You untuck his shirt and work the buttons, your hands gliding over his chest the minute the skin is fully exposed.

 

He preps himself while you go to work marveling at every inch of his perfect skin, occasionally pulling him down into a kiss. He’s such a perfectly warm and solid heat and the way you can feel him smile against your lips makes you melt. He fishes you out of your boxers and lines himself up, sinking down slowly, the action wiping your mind completely and the only thing you can focus on is the pleasure swimming in your head. He rocks hips slowly before he actually starts moving on your cock, and the sensation mixed with watching the tent in his skirt bob and he moves up and down is getting you riled up shamefully fast.

 

You think he doesn’t notice how on edge you are so embarrassingly soon, either that or he simply doesn't care. Seeing straight is so, so hard and you feel so ridiculously hot , and the soft flush on his cheeks as he gasps and grits out each moan is too much. One of his hands is resting on your shoulder, and the other is tangled in your hair as you swallow each others groans in kisses. a few "Fuck, Dirk"'s slips past his mouth and you feel like you could die at this moment, in the best of ways. He’s too much, too perfect and you come apart with a pitiful whimper as he rocks his hips on your cock. You sloppily jack him off until he’s covering the underside of his skirt (and your stomach) with semen.

 

You’re both too tired to bother with cleanup before he’s wrapping his arms around you are you’re sharing laughs as you collectively bask in the post orgasmic haze until you fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> this is like 60% of the quality should have been if we're being honest
> 
> I should have taken my time with this but i decided to stay up all night writing it in one go instead!


End file.
